Vivian could see the sense of unease settling over Jenna’s face. When Vivian had come back into the room a minute ago, she hadn’t spoken a word. She simply sat down across from Jenna with a small, thin smile on her face. Jenna Caldwell’s steely demeanor wavered. There was not a single sound within the room until the door clicked open and Sterling walked in. Marcus Belmont was walking in front of Sterling, his wrists handcuffed in front of him. Belmont’s sharp gaze flicked to Jenna, and the mutual expression of shock that ran across both their faces was impossible to miss.
Sterling’s voice cut through the tension as he settled in beside Vivian. “Let’s not waste any time,” he said, his military precision morphing into something more akin to an executioner’s final call. Jenna’s rigid posture slackened for a fraction of a second before she masked it with practiced indifference.
“Marcus, Jenna,” Vivian began, her tone disarmingly conversational, “I won’t waste time on formal introductions because it’s quite clear you know one another. You can try to tell me you don’t, but the expressions on your faces when you saw each other told us all the truth we needed.”
With no other chairs in the room (Vivian wasn’t about to give Belmont hers), Belmont stood to Vivian’s left. Belmont glanced at Jenna before quickly shifting his face into neutrality. Vivian caught the fleeting look. Fear? Complicity? It didn’t matter—it was there, and it was incriminating.
“Let’s talk about your relationship,” Sterling said.
“Relationship?” Jenna scoffed, her voice a blade.
“Yes, relationship.” With that, he placed the pages comprising their text messages on the table. Belmont had to crane his neck a bit in order to see it. When he did, he uttered a barely audible “Shit.”
Belmont suddenly looked agitated, standing with the rigidity of a man who had to urinate very badly. Jenna chose to look at the ceiling, probably to keep most of her face occupied so that they wouldn’t see her true emotions.
“So, I say again,” Sterling said. “Tell me about your relationship.”
The room was silent for so long that Vivian thought the pair was simply going to refuse to talk. But she also saw the thoughtful look on Belmont’s face. She figured he was probably trying to figure out how much trouble they might be in and if the smartest play would be to keep up the silent treatment or to play ball.
“Well,” he finally said, “it hasn’t been going on for long. Three months maybe.”
“How’d you meet?” Vivian asked.
“A mutual friend,” Belmont said.
“Who?”
But Belmont’s lips were sealed. He seemed to feel that he’d already said too much.
“Here’s the deal,” Sterling said. “Jenna, you have direct links to two of three murder-and-theft scenes related to this case. And I’m starting to wonder if we dig into that third location if you might somehow be linked to that as well. And as for you, Marcus, an ex-security expert with access to an industrial drill and who happens to have a rather nice lockpick set just hanging out in your apartment? And then you add in the fact that you two not only know one another, but that you’re romantically involved.”
“I wouldn’t say romantically,” Jenna scoffed.
“I don’t really care,” Sterling said. “You add that all up, and the picture is very telling.”
Jenna’s eyes darted around the room, a rabbit in a snare looking for any escape. Belmont, on the other hand, seemed a bit more relaxed now that at least a portion of their secret was in the air.
“Coincidental,” Jenna managed, her voice a strained whisper. “It’s all just a big coincidence.” But Vivian could read the woman’s eyes. Jenna knew it sounded weak.
“Is that your final word?” Sterling asked.
“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time doesn’t make me a killer,” Jenna shot back, attempting to rally. But her voice lacked conviction, and her hands betrayed her, knuckles white as they gripped the table.
“Marcus, help us understand,” Vivian pressed on, leaning closer. “What is your relationship with Jenna?”
“Like we said,” Belmont drawled, his silver hair catching the harsh light above. “Nothing serious.”
Vivian exchanged a quick, silent glance with Sterling. They both knew when someone was holding back. Belmont’s nonchalance was too practiced, too deliberate. Jenna was barely keeping it together, anxiety crackling like static around her. If she gripped the table any harder, she might very well snap it in half.
“Think about what you’re doing here,” Sterling suddenly offered, his voice taking on a softer, more persuasive tone. “There’s a very good chance you could leave this room within the next fifteen minutes and we’d never bother you again. All you’d have to do is provide us with names.”
“What names?” Belmont asked, perhaps a bit too quickly.
“The others in your group. I mean…you’ve been caught. And from what we know, it’s an overseas group, right? And based on our records, you’re both American. So I think it’s safe to say they won’t think twice about leaving you behind to rot.”
Belmont’s lips twitched into a half-smile, not quite reaching his cool, detached eyes. “You’re wasting your time. We aren’t going to talk.”
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken threats and promises. Vivian’s mind raced, considering their options.
“Alright then,” Vivian conceded with a nod, pushing her chair back with a scrape that echoed off the walls. She stood, feeling the weight of their stares, measuring the gravity of their silence. Time to regroup, to find another angle—there was always another angle.
As she stepped toward the door, casting one last look at the suspects, a part of her admired their loyalty, even as it frustrated her. They were protecting their own, come hell or high water. Vivian had been in that situation a few times herself. The question now was how to break that bond, to pull apart the threads of their alliance before another life was lost.
She was the first to walk out of the interrogation room, and Sterling followed a few seconds later. When he closed the door behind him, Vivian raised an eyebrow.
“Is that wise? Leaving them in there together?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I hope they try to conspire. The cameras mounted on the ceilings are also audio-capable. I’d love to hear what they might say in private. Though, if they’re smart, they’ll stay quiet.”
“And I do think they’re smart,” Vivian said.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Sterling said, “but I expected that deal to work. I was under the impression that thieves of this caliber would sell each other out in a heartbeat if it meant their freedom.”
“Some would. But two…I can’t tell if it’s plain old loyalty or fear that is keeping them so tight-lipped.” She recalled the unreadable looks that had passed between Jenna and Belmont, the silent communication that screamed volumes. It was clear they were protecting others, but without a confession or hard evidence, they were at an impasse.
“Interpol would never let them walk, right?” Vivian turned to Sterling, seeking confirmation. “Even if they sang like canaries about the rest of their group?”
Sterling’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he met her gaze. “No,” he admitted, the word sharp as a knife cut. “We’d have kept them, used the information to reel in the bigger fish. Whatever sentences they got would be smaller than the others, but they’d certainly see the repercussions one way or the other.”
Vivian felt the sting of betrayal, however small. She had been a thief, yes, but she played by a code. In an odd way, the old adage was true: There’s honor even among thieves.
“Vivian, we are not dealing with petty criminals,” Sterling said, as if he’d read her thoughts. “These people are murderers. You saw Rachel Nguyen for yourself. We have to use every tool at our disposal, even if that means bluffing to get what we need.”
“Bluffing,” Vivian scoffed, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Though deep down, she agreed…in this case, anyway.
Vivian exhaled slowly, the weight of the case still on her shoulders like a knapsack filled with bricks. She understood the urgency, the desperation. But it didn’t sit well with her, the shifting moral ground beneath her feet. They needed a break in the case, and playing fast and loose with the truth had left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Let’s focus on what we can prove,” Vivian suggested, her mind already sifting through the facts, the evidence, looking for the next move. “We’ll find another way to connect the dots.”
Sterling nodded, his expression grim but resolute. “Agreed. Let’s get back to it. Perhaps we should be looking into the antiques store…Klein’s. The one across the street from where Emily Turner’s body was found. We haven’t connected Jenna to that location yet.”
Vivian had to keep herself in check. With two very strong suspects already caught and in an interrogation room, it felt like taking a step back to once again go diving into files and records. But then again, this was not the end of the equation she was usually on and she figured it was probably better to stay on the side of experience.
So with a final look at the closed door of the interrogation room, Vivian followed Sterling in the hopes of finding yet another clue that they could use to nail this case shut.